


When Stanford Learned not to Mess with Sam Winchester (Or alternatively: Why you should never get between a college student and their coffee)

by Perpetually_Half_Asleep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU (Sam met Brady in second year), BAMF Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester, Gen, How Do I Tag, John Winchester Not Being an Asshole, Monsters, No beta we die like winchesters, Revenge, Stanford Era (Supernatural), i can't believe that's a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perpetually_Half_Asleep/pseuds/Perpetually_Half_Asleep
Summary: Sam was really not having a good day. It certainly didn't help that monsters with a grudge against his dad decided to attack Stanford. Some twenty monsters masquerading as humans (complete with some AK 47s), teamed up with one goal. To kill Sam. God why was his coffee pot broken?Or: The monsters learn that just because Sam is a student (and has tried to escape the life of a Hunter) doesn't mean that he's an easy target.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining me in this mess of a story created at 1 am. This is the first piece I've published in like four years. Please let me know if you find any problems. Thanks again. I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam is (not) attacked by a Post-It note

It was already a bad day when it first began. Sam Winchester woke up to a broken coffee maker, an empty fridge, (sorry! Jack had called, stuffing _Sam’s_ last bagel in his mouth on the way out the door), and a missing knife. He always kept one underneath his pillow. It was a habit he’d learned from Dean and he’d kept up when he moved into the dorms because he didn’t quite trust his roommate yet. Something that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon, considering that the asshole had stolen Sam’s breakfast. 

Maybe it was a good thing that the knife had disappeared, because Sam was seriously debating committing first degree murder. Not that the one missing pocket knife would mean much in that regard, he had an entire collection of deadly weapons stashed under the floorboards beneath his bed. Which was something he’d learned from his dad. He had six glocks, five silver knives, four machetes, three gallons of salt (this is starting to sound like the “Twelve Days of Christmas”) ninety rock-salt rounds, twenty regular shotgun rounds, forty silver bullets, one-hundred-five .99 millimeter bullets, a rifle, and a sawed-off. He was seriously embracing the serial killer vibe here. 

Sam dumped some coffee grounds in what little milk he had left and downed the cup in sleep-deprived desperation. He was running on maybe six hours of sleep over the past five days and it was definitely packing a punch. 

Not that it was the worst off he’d ever been though. When he was fifteen, he’d been hunted by a NightMare and his father had banned him from going to sleep until they figured out how to kill it. The NightMare myth was the origin of the word nightmare, it was a creature that could take on any shape and was often credited with Sleep Paralysis. They would crouch on the chest of their victims and create vivid nightmares. The victims almost always ended up dead in the end. The Mare that was hunting Sam had revealed that they fed on fear and that causing nightmares in humans was the easiest way to get it. It had taken them seven days to finally gank the thing. Sam had passed out the second they got back to the Impala.

Case in point, this was not the worst thing that had ever happened. It wasn’t exactly pleasant though.

_

  
  


The only good coffee shop on campus was closed today.

The coffee shop was closed.

Coffee closed.

No coffee.

_Damn…_

Sam stared at the post-it that gave some brief explanation that really didn't help him feel better about his lack of coffee. He briefly considered breaking in, and the yellow paper fluttered gently against the glass.

"Are you going to peel yourself off the window and try to stop me?" He asked it, raising an eyebrow. He was only half kidding because at this point, it really wouldn't surprise him. He'd been attacked by books before. Was a flimsy slip of paper really that much of a leap in the logic department. _God what even was his life?_

Deciding that "not going to jail today" only marginally won over "not having caffeine right now" in his internal argument, he sighed heavily and walked away. 

He walked into the lecture hall a little earlier than he had planned as he hadn't been waiting in line for coffee or at home enjoying breakfast.

The lecture was on the evolution of the myth of Dionysus. Sam had actually been really interested in it when he'd first heard, but right now sleep was much more appealing. _He'd planned to power through with some Death Wish coffee and three shots of espresso, but_ that _wasn't happening._

Sam yawned. A kind of pitiful whining sound ended up coming out of his mouth and Sam blushed furiously. He was suddenly very thankful that there were so few people in the room. _If Dean had heard that he would have teased him for a month._

Sam jumped when someone slid into the seat beside him. _Watch your surroundings Sammy._ He heard Dean chide him from his memories. He jumped again when a cup of coffee was suddenly on the desk in front of him. He stared at the travel cup with wide eyes. _Wait… what?_

His eyes snapped up and met Jack's. His roommate grinned cheerfully. "I remembered that the coffee maker was broken." 

Sam stared at him for a minute, then looked back at the cup on the desk, then back at Jack.

Jack sighed. "I also remembered that you get _really_ weird when you don't have coffee. Kinda like that." He paired the statement with a vague gesture in Sam's direction.

Sam blinked slowly.

"Oh my god…" Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Just drink the coffee Sam." 

Sam nursed the coffee throughout the lecture, suddenly very thankful that he hadn't attacked Jack that morning.

_

  
  


He went about the rest of his school day as normal. He went to two more classes. Met up with Jack and a few others in one of the libraries on campus for a study session. After eating lunch, he made his way back to his dorm to change into a t-shirt and sweats for a run. Later, when he looked back he'd blame it on his exhaustion. But he didn't notice the man in black following him around all day.

He was in his last class of the day when it started. Sam instantly perked up as a far too familiar explosive sound resonated though the building.

_Gunfire._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Fuck_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. How to Steal from a Janitor's Closet: A Summary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack realizes that Sam probably doesn't need their Mythology Classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So full disclosure, I've been in maybe four college classrooms total. All of them either really specialized or at a small school. So I have no idea how actual university lecture halls work. I also have no idea how college dorms work. I'm operating under the assumption that you can have a mini-fridge and a coffee maker in your room at least.
> 
> In summary, I have no idea how college works. So if things don't make sense I'm really sorry. Let me know if you find any typos or mistakes. I proof-read it before I posted but I miss things like that a lot. 
> 
> I also upped the rating because there are a lot of curse words in this chapter and they will continue throughout the rest of the story. This chapter is really heavy in action. I'm super out of practice writing that, so let me know how it turns out. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me today! Enjoy!

Jackson Miller liked to think he was a pretty normal person. He was born into a middle-class suburban life, maintained pretty good grades throughout his school years, got a high-school job at Dunkin’ Donuts, had a little sister and an older brother, and _oh yeah_ managed to get the world’s weirdest first year college roommate. 

Sam Winchester was nice, he really was, but sometimes the things he did were just so freaking odd. One time he had woken up to find Sam mumbling Latin in his sleep. Jack was actually working on a major in Latin himself and even with all of the Martial poems he’d translated it was still weird. In his defense, Jack had never expected to wake up to a friggin’ exorcism in his bedroom at 2:47 am. 

Two weeks after that, Sam had gotten a call from someone named Bobby. Jack had been sitting at his desk and Sam was across the room reading on his bed. Then a cell phone started ringing. The conversation had gone something like this; 

-This is Sam.

-Hi Bobby.

-You talked to Dad huh?

At this point, Sam had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. 

-Of course he did. Yeah I’m fine. 

-Yeah, I’m with my roommate right now.

He paused, brows furrowing.

-Hey is that the Impala?

Suddenly there was a crash so loud on the other end of the call that Jack could hear it from across the room. Sam was on his feet before Jack could blink. “Bobby?”

Jack listened closely to the other side of the phone. -Wow Sam really kept the volume on his phone really loud.- He could make out a male voice with a Midwestern accent on the other end of the call.

_“I’m fine Sam. But God knows your brother needs to learn how to drive.”_

“What did he do?” Sam raised his eyebrows, worry flooding his tone. A second, younger, voice appeared in the background of the call. 

_“Bobby, we need help.”_

_“Balls! Sam, I’ll have to call you back.”_

“Bobby wait-” The call ended.

Sam spent the rest of the day staring at his phone waiting for the promised call. It didn’t come until 10:00 pm. Jack had stepped out of the room and allowed Sam some privacy for that conversation. 

There were more calls after that, not from Bobby, but from other people. Those calls generally went something like this: 

-This is Sam.

-Nope I’m not with him. Right. Okay. Good Luck with your hunt.

Beyond that, he was kind of paranoid. He’d get nervous about the strangest things. Like when the lights flickered, or if he was reading and Jack turned up the AC he'd look like he thought someone was going to attack him. He avoided a specific alley on campus like it was the plague. Until one night Jack heard him leave at like 12:30 and suddenly he was perfectly comfortable using it as a short-cut to Classical Literature.

Taken separately, any of these things could be considered almost normal. But they weren’t separate, there was no getting around it. For all Jack liked the guy, Sam was weird.

And oh my god it got worse when Sam didn't have caffeine. Sometimes if they ran out of coffee, he would randomly throw salt in the faces of people who startled him. _And then he'd look confused, like he wasn't expecting it to hit them!_

Overall, most people knew to avoid surprising a sleepy Sam. At best they'd get covered in a condiment, at worst they'd be on the floor after receiving a particularly vicious left hook. Sam always apologized profusely, even if the shitheads who got punched were generally trying to attack him and totally deserved it.

As time went on though, Sam mellowed out. Gone were the days that he'd get a call and spend the rest of the day in a bad mood. Gone were the surprised sucker punches. And the paranoia slowly started fading away.

Sometimes Jack wondered what the hell had happened to Sam, but he wasn't about to ask. He figured that "hey why are you so weird" would only get him an intentional punch in the face. All Jack knew was that Sam Winchester had seen some serious shit.

_

So when Sam suddenly went rigid mid lecture and the blood drained from his face, Jack's only thought was; _oh shit, shit, shit!_ He'd once seen Sam take down a guy on the Football team who was probably four times his size. He hadn't even blinked. Whatever freaked out Sam to the point of actual fear wasn't good news. 

Then the door was kicked in. Sam, who was seated closest to it as always (another strange habit of his), was instantly on his feet. 

It was probably a good response because the woman who entered the room was brandishing a very large gun. Instantly there was a rush of frantic scrambling for the other side of the room. Jack stood frozen in place.

_FUck fuCK FUCK!_

Gun pointed at Sam

Giant gun three feet away from Sam

Super deadly freakin’ gun pointed _right_ at Sam!

She rounded on Sam and a massive grin split across her face. “Sam Winchester!” Sam shifted his weight to his left foot minutely as the woman continued cheerfully, “Fancy meeting you here! Do you remember me? I remember you.”

Sam didn’t respond, unless you count lunging down and to the left of the woman. A quick spray of bullets went over his head. He planted his right foot between her feet as she whirled around trying to get the college student back into her range of fire. Sam shot upright elbowing the woman in the solar plexus as he went, he followed through with a throat punch and the woman reflexively drew her hands towards her neck. Sam ripped the AK-47 from her grip and retreated with the weapon, dismantling it as he went.

It happened in less than four seconds. Jack’s heart pounded, _holy shit..._

The room was absolutely silent expect for Sam’s heavy breathing and the woman’s gagging.

“Fuck.” The woman hissed, _like ACTUALLY hissed,_ and her eyes flashed yellow. “You’re so damn fast.”

“You’re that librarian, from Topeka.” Sam spoke softly, but his voice still resounded through the room.

The woman grinned straightening “Aw, you do remember me.” _God, how the fuck was she still standing anyway? If Jack had been hit like that he’d be out like a fucking light._

“How many people do you have with you?” Sam asked.

“Aw Sammy…” The woman purred. “You seem surprised. You really should’ve stayed with your Daddy. You have no idea how many of us are just itching to rip you and your ‘big brother Dean’ up into tiny little pieces.”

Then she lunged and the tentative calm that had fallen over the room shattered. Screams ripped through the air and people ran for any possible exit: the windows, the door, the professor’s office. Sam dropped into a fighting stance and met the woman with a forearm to her collarbone. Her forward force carried onwards as Sam chucked her headfirst into the row of desks behind him. Her temple met the edge of a desk with a resounding crack as she went down. She didn’t get up.

Sam ran towards Jack, who was still standing frozen, and dragged him along by his shoulder. “Jack, what happened to my knife?”

“Knife?” Jack squeaked. 

Sam peeked his head around the corner or the door frame, checking the hallway before shoving Jack out into it. “Yes, the silver pocket knife that I keep under my pillow.” 

Jack felt sort of floaty as Sam tugged him down the hall. He marveled at Sam’s calm demeanor. “I don’t- I- Uh-”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs in front of them, heavy and fast. Sam dragged Jack into an empty janitor’s closet. He pressed a hand over Jack’s mouth until the footsteps passed. That floaty feeling was back, had it ever left? Jack felt a little sick and stumbled when Sam let him go.

Sam moved in front of him gripped him by the shoulders. The hand felt heavy, grounding. A worried sigh brushed over Jack’s face, _oh that kind of tickled._ “Look, Jack. I need to to breathe. Ready? We’re going to breathe in now okay?”

Jack heaved a shaking breath in.

“Good, okay now let it out.”

The air left Jack’s chest in a whoosh. 

“Okay. Breathe in _, two, three, four._ Hold _two, three, four._ Out _two, three, four._ Okay, now we’re going to do it again.” 

...

Jack managed, by some combination of a miracle and Sam’s coaching, to get his breathing under control. “Okay.” He breathed. “Okay… Your knife…”

He thought back to that morning. He’d seen a knife poking out of one of the pockets in Sam’s backpack. Jack looked at Sam’s shoulders, he didn’t have his backpack right now. But there was a dark stain growing on his red hoodie. _Wait. Fuck. That was blood. Sam was bleeding._

Sam noticed his stare. “I got nicked by one of the bullets. It’s not as bad as it looks I promise. I can move my arm, so I'll be fine. I was really lucky all things considered. But I need to know what happened to my knife.”

“It’s uh…” He swallowed. “It’s in your bag, back in the room with that girl… Fuck! Sam she tried to kill you!” His voice kicked up a little.

“Shhh!” Sam hissed urgently, pausing to listen for more footsteps. “Yeah I know, but we’re going to get through this. I just need your help, okay?” 

Jack breathed shakily “Okay. Okay. What do we need to do?”

Sam sighed, “So the knife is a no-go. We can’t get back into that room, she’s probably awake by now. So I guess the first thing we need to do is get back to the dorms.” Sam looked around at the collection of things in the closet. “Okay, what can we use?” His eyes locked onto the industrial mop bucket. Or more specifically, the metal handle used to squeeze the water out of the mop. 

Sam tipped the bucket on its side and kicked downwards onto the handle one, two, three, four times. The plastic holding onto the metal gave in with a loud snap and the handle hit the floor with a dull clang. 

Sam passed the handle to Jack, “If someone gets too close, hit them until either they go away or hit the ground.”

Jack nodded, feeling a little better just holding something to protect himself with. Sam snapped the head off of a broom and shifted his grip on the handle experimentally. He frowned, but shrugged (then winced as the movement pulled on his shoulder) “It’ll have to do. Let’s move.”

_

They made it to the first floor of the dorms before they encountered another assailant. This one was a man and he didn’t have a gun, _thank God_. 

Jack stared at him, he didn’t look too strong. Maybe (just maybe) they might actually make it through this thing alive. Then Sam suddenly grabbed his arm and dragged him around a corner. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The words tumbled out of Sam’s mouth in a stream. “Okay, Jack we need silver.”

A comment from a high-school Physics class suddenly popped into Jack’s mind. “Some mirrors have silver!”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, cuz of its reflective ability.”

The man suddenly shot around the corner and Sam ducked. Jack’s wide eyes stared at the man’s hand, it was embedded two inches deep into the wall where Sam’s head had been an instant earlier. The man yanked his hand free and gently wriggled his fingers. A shower of plaster fluttered to the floor. _There was no way that this man was human._

Jack’s eyes met the cold stare of the monster, whose eyes gently flicked to his hand that was still raised between them. Jack felt all the blood rush from his face. As he stared, a long spike slid out of the skin of the thing’s wrist. _Oh my god… What the hell was happening…_

The man smiled. A _sweet_ sickening smile that promised pain and misery. His emotions suddenly slowed and his thoughts felt like honey and... and… and safety, warmth. Jack stumbled. 

Sam whacked at the man with his broom handle. Or, at least he tried to. The thing caught it with one hand, then squeezed. The wood shattered. The two roommates shared a frantic look and then they ran. 

Beside him Sam cursed, cursed, and cursed again. “That’s a wraith. A fucking Wraith! God Dammit!”

The man was fast. Both Jack and Sam were regular runners and could even sometimes keep up with Sherryl, a girl second from the top in Track club. Their feet pounded down the hallway in unison. Suddenly the man snagged the back of Sam’s hood. He let out a strangled yelp and slammed backwards into the ground. Jack skidded to a stop several feet away.

The _Wraith_ (had Sam called it that?) smiled again as he knelt down behind the young man’s head. Sam let out a disoriented groan and struggled to try to push himself up. The wraith’s hand caught Sam’s shoulder and dug into the wound from the bullet.

Sam howled.

_Small wound or not, having someone claw it open was bound to be unpleasant._

The thing moved it’s other hand, the one with the spike, towards Sam’s temple. Jack found himself moving. _God when did he become so fucking reckless?_ The bucket handle Sam had given him whipped through the air. 

_crack!_

The wraith screeched reeling backwards and clutching its injured hand. Jack had swung full force into the spike and it had snapped in half. The broken piece had fallen onto Sam's face and tumbled down onto the floor. Jack hauled Sam to his feet and took off again. This time it was him dragging Sam along as they raced towards the stairs. 

Sam shook his head blearily as he ran. He managed a murmured. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jack yanked him up the first flight of steps. “You recognized that thing. You know what it is. How do we stop it.”

Sam pulled his arm from Jack’s grip and the two of them matched strides again. “Silver blade to the heart.”

Jack stumbled, nearly face-planting into the banister. “Wait what?!”

Stealing, sure. Hitting people, okay. But _killing_ , that was _not_ on the table.

Below them, the wraith shrieked. “You little shits! I’m going to rip your faces off!”

Jack decided that he could freak out about it later, right now they needed to focus on running. They covered the next three flights of stairs in record time and flew out onto their floor. _God, their hallway seemed so much longer right now than it did this morning._

They _finally_ reached their door, and Sam grabbed the bucket handle from Jack. “Do you have your keys?”

Jack nodded and dug them out of his pocket as Sam stood between him and the stairwell, brandishing the flimsy piece of metal. The wraith burst into view just as he managed to insert the key into the lock. Jack twisted it, spitting out a violent; “Fuck!” as he pushed the door open and tumbled into the room. Sam followed, grabbing the keys and slamming the door closed behind him. He met Jack halfway and helped drag a desk in front of the door just as the creature reached it and started crashing bodily into the wood that suddenly seemed extremely flimsy.

“Okay, we’re back in the dorm room. Now what?” Jack stumbled to his feet and looked at Sam who was flipping his bed onto its side. Jack furrowed his brows, trying to ignore the way the wood was starting to splinter behind him. “What are you doing?”

Sam ignored him and knelt down to grab a loop of rope connected to one of the floorboards. 

“Sam?”

Jack’s roommate tugged upwards on the rope, and suddenly an entire section of their floor was opening up. Jack stepped forward to look into the hidden compartment and froze. 

_Holy Shit_

Sam looked up at him and grinned, unsheathing a gleaming silver dagger. “Now I give you the crash-course on fighting monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Sam Finally Gets a Knife! and a Gun, and a Machete. Jack is concerned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dude, how do I even explain this one? The absolute jumble of plot points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hi, I don't know why but this chapter was really hard to write. Please forgive me if It's not good. Also, let me know if anything doesn't make sense or if you find a typo.

Sam Winchester was done. So fucking done. He'd left his only family behind for  _ one _ reason; to get away from all the damn monsters. He had sacrificed his relationship with his brother and father because he wanted to get away from the world of hunting. He hadn’t quite gotten rid of the training or the paranoia yet, but he was fucking  _ trying _ . He was trying so hard to get away, to just be _ fucking safe _ . Turns out it was a good thing he kept the stash of weapons that he thought was just satisfying his God damned anxiety. They sure were turning out to be useful right now. 

He handed Jack a machete, the longest range weapon available that didn’t need to be loaded. The door shuddered and Sam slammed the compartment shut. It would probably be a good idea if he could keep deadly weapons away from the monsters trying to kill him.

He stood in front of Jack as the door caved in and the wraith chuckled. “So you’re Winchester’s little brat, huh?” 

The wraith pushed the desk out of the way and strolled leisurely into the room. It lunged towards Sam's neck. Sam ducked and parried into an overhead block that smoothly diverted the strike away. He retreated out of range and flipped the knife into a reverse hold. The monster growled and edged forward, Sam swiped the blade towards its chest. The wraith side-stepped the strike and landed a punch to Sam’s ribs. Sam grunted, but threw a punch combination into it's face in retaliation.

Sam saw the next kick coming and caught it between his side and his forearm. He pivoted on his left foot and knocked the wraith to the ground with an elbow to the collar bone. Sam lunged with the knife and received a kick to the sternum for his trouble.  _ Shit.  _

Sam was shoved backwards and the wraith struggled to its feet growling. Sam lunged forward again and managed to cut the monster on its left shoulder (hey now they matched!). He struck again and the wraith parried the knife. Then Sam’s wrist got slammed into the wall. The knife clattered onto the counter, and the wraith's hand closed around Sam’s throat. Sam’s back slid slowly up the wall as his Vans scrambled for the ground. Sam struggled against the hold fruitlessly.  _ Fuck, he’d forgotten how strong wraiths were.  _ His hand fumbled around the countertop. The knife was just out of his reach.  _ Damn it, damn it, damn it.  _ His vision started to fade in and out of focus.

“Excuse me, why are you trying to kill us" Jack sounded really freaked out. "God I think I'm quoting Big Hero 6. Do you know that movie? ”

The wraith blinked, seemingly taken aback with exactly how unique to Jack that kind of question was. The distraction caused the grip around Sam’s throat to slacken minutely.

It was enough. 

Sam snatched up the knife he’d dropped and plunged it into the wraith’s chest. It screamed, stumbling forward. It clawed at Sam's throat with both hands.  _ Apparently it had decided that if it was going down, Sam was coming with it.  _ Sam choked, his hands coming up to swat at the wrists holding him. His arms got heavier and heavier as his vision slowly started fading to black.  _ Fuck. Fuck fuck. _

Suddenly the hands were gone and Sam was weightless. He collapsed on top of the wraith’s body and shuddered as air flooded into his lungs. He coughed raggedly for a minute, then he gasped gulping in several huge breaths. 

“Holy Shit!” Jack scrambled towards Sam, hauling him off of the dead body in a panic. “Fuck! Sam! Shit! Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t move! Are you okay?! Fuck! Shit! Can you breathe? Aw shit, shit, shit!"

Sam chuckled, "You curse worse than my brother.” He tried to give Jack a reassuring smile, but his voice sounded raw and scratchy even to his own ears.

_

Sam selected Dad’s contact on his phone before propping it between his chin and shoulder while he rifled through the contents of the arsenal. It was 5:02. It'd been about forty-five minutes since the attack had started, he wondered where the hell the police were. 

__ He handed Jack a knife and started loading a pistol with silver bullets. “Do you know how to shoot?”

The phone rang a few times before it went to voicemail.  _ Typical. _

Jack shrugged, “I’m guessing it’s not as simple as nerf guns?”

Sam hummed, sliding a few more bullets into place. “It's not too different honestly, just remember to brace the gun for the kick-back. Push forward with your left while you pull the trigger with your right. Since you’re not experienced, don’t lock your elbows. I can teach you more later if you want but we don’t have time right now.” Sam passed him the gun.

“If there  _ is  _ a later.” Jack took the gun reluctantly. He glanced at the dead wraith. 

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” Sam answered, distracted as he scrolled through his phone for Dean’s contact.

Jack’s voice was barely above a whisper when he asked. “Am I gonna have to kill to get through this?”

Sam paused, setting down the phone and looking up at Jack. 

He remembered a similar conversation he’d once had with his father. His dad had said Sam would have to kill, except with more curses and an excess of concerned anger. It was probably justified. If Sam hadn’t killed the monsters, he’d probably be long dead in some cave or empty house. 

But after living with him for six months, he'd learned that Jack was the kind of person who avoided killing _anything_. If there was a spider in their room, Jack would catch it with a cup and paper and walk it all the way outside to release it. He had never been hunting, and had politely declined when a group of friends had invited him out. Sam hadn't gone either but he had been studying. Jack was vegetarian, but not in the way most people were. He'd tell you he didn't eat meat when food was being cooked and that was it. He wasn't against defending himself, but he had basically sworn that he wasn't going to kill anything, _ever_. It was something unique about him, and Sam wasn't about to try to convince him to stop.

"No." Sam shrugged. "You're in luck though, 'cause these things are _really_ hard to kill. Chances that you kill one instead of just maiming it are pretty slim. Just point, fire, and run like hell."

_

Dean Winchester was tired. He'd just managed to take out a particularly nasty poltergeist on his own, but it hadn't been pretty. He flopped down on the motel bed and pressed a bag of frozen peas to the giant lump forming on his forehead.  _ Damn, that hurt like a bitch.  _

He had one hell of a headache. He'd almost prefer to be hungover right now. 

Dean groaned, flipping over onto his stomach and looked at the clock. 

5:00 pm Pacific Standard Time. 

He'd been in San Francisco for just under a week now, and he hadn't told Sam. He wasn't even sure if he should. Dean hadn't seen Sam for six months, he hadn't even spoken to him. He had no idea what kind of life the kid was living right now. He had no idea if Sam would even want to see him.

_ Gah! It was stupid to be thinking about it anyway. Sam was probably busy studying or going to parties or whatever it was that normal people did in college. _ _ This was stupid.  _

He sighed, considering getting up to take a shower. Pros; the hot water would probably feel really great. Cons; that meant moving. 

Dean's phone started blaring Renegade by Styx. Shit _ that hurt his head. _ He snatched the infernal device off the bedside table and turned the volume down to ten before accepting the call. He realized a second too late that he hadn't even looked at the caller ID.  _ oops _

"Hello?" 

"Dean?" Sam asked.

_ Something was wrong. Sam was scared. Dean's baby brother was scared.  _

Dean was halfway out the door before he forced himself to stop and figure out what was happening. 

"Sammy? You okay?" 

"Uh… Not exactly." Sam's voice sounded wrung out. Tired.

_ Something was seriously wrong.  _

He grabbed the keys from the table and picked up his bag.

"Sammy, talk to me. What's going on?"

"Uh… there's monsters at school. At least a vetala and a wraith, although the wraith is dead now. But I think there might be more. The police aren't here, which is probably a good thing considering the monsters. But I have no idea where they are. Or why they haven't showed up yet." Sam stopped to take a breath.

_ Oh Jesus Fucking Christ!  _

Dean was running for the car, completely forgoing checking out, he had to get to his baby brother. 

"I'm on my way. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Half an hour? Where  _ are _ you?" Sam’s voice was filled with confusion.

_ Time to bite the bullet then. _

"Leaving San Francisco.” Dean could practically feel Sam’s frustration spike over the phone. “We can talk about it later. Do you have weapons?"

Dean froze as he heard someone who was decidedly not Sam laugh incredulously in the background.

"Who was that?" He asked, heart racing.

"It's okay." Sam switched the phone to speaker. "Jack, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is my roommate Jack. He uh, helped me fight the wraith."

Dean pulled onto the interstate and slammed on the gas. 

"Okay." Dean said,  _ fucking civilians involved in this.  _ _ Great _ . "Weapons?" 

"Sam hid an entire fucking arsenal under his bed." The guy,  _ Jack _ , said. "I sincerely hope we're good on that front."

"An arsenal?" Dean questioned, a smile pulled at his lips. "Anything like Dad's?" 

"Just the basics." Sam said, almost defensively  _ like he thought that only having a  _ _ few _ _ deadly weapons under his bed made him any less of a paranoid brat _ . 

" _ This _ is 'the basics'?!" Jack squeaked incredulously. 

Dean chuckled dryly.  _ If you only knew.  _ "You give him the talk yet?" He asked Sam.

"I hadn't yet.” Sam sighed, “figured I'd call you first. I’ll give him the nuts and bolts in a minute."

"You do that." He checked the road signs. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes"

"Fuck, you drive fast…" Jack commented, a note of respect in his voice. 

Dean grinned, he liked this kid. "Yeah, well. I have to. Alright, here's the plan. Sammy, hang up. Move to a more secure location. Call me back in ten minutes."

"Okay."

"I'm going to call Bobby and see what other Hunters are in the area." He paused, then grinned that faint swishing noise was really familiar. _ He knew Sam too well.  _ "You're nodding aren't you?" He teased. 

Sam let out a quiet but still acceptably indignant squawk.  _ Score! _ "I was  _ not!"  _

"He was." Jack commented conspiratorially.

Dean heard a whack and Jack yelped. 

Well, Sam seemed okay for now. That much was good news.  


"Sammy?"  


"Yeah?"

"I'll be there soon. Stay safe."

"I will." Sam was  _ totally _ nodding again. "Talk to you in ten."

Then the call ended and Dean nearly crashed into a tree because he was trying to call Bobby while going 95 mph.

_

Five minutes later found Sam and Jack in yet another janitors closet. 

Sam sat down, his pistol held loosely in one hand and draped over his knee. He sighed heavily and let his head thump backwards into the wall. 

Jack sat across from him, shifting awkwardly every few seconds. 

Sam closed his eyes and tilted his head skyward. "Jack...” he drew the name out. “What are you doing?"

"Uh," Jack's voice sounded panicked. "What's _the_ _talk?"_

Sam grinned at him. "It's not the birds and the bees if that's what you're worried about.”

Jack punched him in the arm. “Dude. First of all, I don’t need that talk ever again. Second, I definitely don’t need it to come from you, Mr.  _ I’m going to study all the time _ .”

“Rude.” Sam chuckled. 

“Okay, but seriously.” Jack leaned back and curled one hand absentmindedly around the leg of a shelf. “What’s the talk?”

Sam sighed, dropping his head back onto the wall.  _ He really had never wanted to do this. He had spent the last six fucking months trying to get away from monsters, and now he had to tell Jack everything.  _ He watched as a spider scrambled around on its web in the corner of the closet. The edge of the web kept slipping off the wall and the spider was struggling to save it.  _ Ugh, a spider’s life is feeling relatable. Great _

Sam closed his eyes again half wishing that he could disappear. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but monsters are real.”

“No way!” Jack was really good at sarcasm when he wanted to be. “Is that why we keep getting attacked by mythological creatures?”

“Yeah.” Sam chuckled, finally looking at Jack. “Werewolves, wraiths, ghosts, demons; they’re all real. My dad and brother hunt ‘em. Until I got into Stanford, I did too. We track down a suspicious occurrence, do research to figure out what needs killing and how to kill it. Then we go full out ghostbusters, but with fewer vacuums and more salt in shotgun rounds. After that, we pack up and hit the next supernatural things that pops up on our radar.”

“You always kill these things?” Jack looked horrified. “Always?”

“Well, not always. But if we hear about ‘em its because they’ve killed somebody. Eaten someones heart, sucked out someone’s brain, that sort of thing. There’s almost never a way to reason with things that just  _ like _ to kill people. Believe me, I’ve tried. I nearly got my throat ripped out when I tried to talk to a werewolf that was hunting teenagers because ‘their hearts taste better’. My dad almost killed me himself when he found out, said that it was a stupid thing to do. He was right, especially because I was a teenager at the time and used myself as bait to get its attention. Not my finest moment.

“Ghosts are easier, sometimes you can talk them into moving on, generally they’re just angry or confused. If you explain what’s happening, some of them will just kind of fade away. There’s also plenty monsters out there that don’t hurt anyone. I’ve met some people that are just living their lives, except they happen to be a shapeshifter or something. But yeah, if they’re killing people and they won’t stop, then we kill them.”

“So you hunt monsters?” Jack sounded amused. “You hunt  _ monsters _ ?”

Sam shrugged, feeling a bit self conscious. “Yeah, why?”

“It just explains so much.” Jack chuckled.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Your jumpy behavior, your fighting ability, the fact that suddenly that one alley on campus is a lot less creepy.”

Sam smiled, “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Patty died in that alley sixty years ago. She was a little vengeful, and she thought that everyone that came in was the person that killed her. You heard about how Tim Castor ended up in the hospital right? That was her.”

“I thought that was some kind of freak accid- oh…”

“I went out and talked to her after I heard about that. I convinced her to let me help her move on. I had to track down some of her blood that was binding her here, but eventually she just kind of faded away..”

“Dude, you have a weird life.”

“Tell me about it.” 

They drifted into a pleasant silence.  _ That wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.  _ He looked back up at the spider, who had actually managed to fix its web.  _ Good on you, Spider. _

_... _

Sam looked at his watch. “That’s ten minutes. I’m calling Dean.”

Dean picked up his phone on the first ring. “Sam, you good?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m about seven minutes out.”

_ “Damn…”  _ Jack commented, leaning back and crossing his arms looking mildly impressed. “He drives really fast.”

“Where are you?” Dean asked.

Sam groaned, embarrassed. He mumbled out something unintelligible and buried his face in his hands.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dean asked.

“Janitors closet.” Sam grumbled.

“Meh, not the worst place to be.” Dean paused. “Try to stay there till I get to you. Caleb was in San Jose, he’ll be about ten minutes behind me.”

Sam felt a massive weight lift off his shoulders and the air left his lungs in a sigh of relief. Caleb was good. Dean was better. They were both coming. They were actually going to get through this thing alive. Thank God.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.

“Yeah, and dude?”

“Hm?”

“You totally owe me some pie after this is over.”

Sam hung up laughing.


End file.
